There are secrets
whispered all around us,
the earth speaks
through her gentle fingers;
the grass
waves in the wind.

We are made
of the same stuff
as mud!
Yet something else
is happening here…

Show me the key
to our consciousness!

Humanity can observe
and pick at the cell,
we can stare at the atom,
the vibrating center
of the universe,
we are getting closer
it would seem,
but we aren’t
going to reach
It.

What if
I told you
It’s all around you,
Just breathing gently.

Relax,
inhale It,
let your consciousness expand
and contract,
all at once.

Set your soul free,
let it wander
gently through the darkness,
towards the light,
yes,
Closer.

See It now?
Glowing in front of your being?

Go ahead and touch
It,
Rub noses with
It,
Put your hands inside of
It.

Yes.

You are
It.

When I go insane
It will be that creeping
brand of madness,
sneaking over my brain
like a cloudy veil.

A whick-whacking creature,
trudging with sticky feet,
forward, forward, into my mind,
a pesky itch just behind
my right
eye socket.

La la la la!

I’ll pace around
grinning and singing.
I’m going to get lost in my head,
and you can too.

didn’t they tell you?
The infinite universe
is inside your head
too—

I want to drop
the fattest bass line
Ever.
So thick that people
are literally shaking,
(lose control of your body,
you won’t need it in this place)

Ka blam!
baby wake the **** up,
**** is about to get

Funky
in here.

It can be a spiritual event,
a bowl of cereal
and cold milk,
Taken with the rising sun.

A moment
of peace and stillness,
A breath
of serenity
Before
The day begins.

It’s a strange relationship,
she waits for me, motionless,
silent,
useless,
perched on a guitar stand
as I sleep and
take care of other daily tasks.

Sometimes I pick her up,
she sits in my lap,
my strong fingers
fret up and down her neck,
I grip her throat
And she thumps back in approval.

It’s crazy to think
I’m literally holding onto notes,
I can feel them beneath my fingertips
(My body’s sensitive place)
trembling in apprehension,
responding eagerly
to my every feeling.

I outline shapes and patterns,
strange looking things
that I’ve come to see
wobbling always
in front of me.

then I set her down
and she is,
once again,
a piece of wood.

I wish that I could go
to this place,
walk around
on the neon clouds,
swim through
that place within all of us.

I’m so happy
that you made this
just for
me.

I feel like a ******* superhero
when I think about You
walking around your college campus,
150 miles away,
your behind shaking back and forth
As if to tell the spectators,
“No.”
Your ******* nod up and down,
Approving your soft face.

The suitors
trail you like butterflies,
proclaiming their love for you aloud
they swim in your wake of sugar,
the place you inhabit
glows with golden energy.

You turn them all down
because for some reason
I am the lucky one.

It’s been a while
since we last
did this.

I’ve almost forgotten
the way your body
fits together like a perfectly
intricate song,
one part flows
into the next
seamlessly.

The patterns etched into my mind
come back so effortlessly now.
I’ve got my hand between your thighs,
I feel your warmth,
Breathing.
this is familiar.

I’m going to touch you
in that secret place.

It’s irresistible,
the look on your face
as you give up
and melt into the feeling.

I plunge into you
like splashing through the surface
of a crystal calm lake at sunrise
and you explode
like a million
shattering windowpanes.

You exist
simultaneously
in my pocket
and in New York.

Buzz… Buzz…

Each text I send,
an attempt
at a well-crafted
digital love song.

Goodnight sweetie.
☺

Last night I dreamed
In great green valleys.
You and I
laughed and dashed across
a trickling stream
of cool diamond water
lapping
over smooth polished stones.

on the other side
we dried our bare feet
on the soft warm grass,
carpeted and mossy.

laughing we raced up
the sloping loams of
the earth’s fresh surface,
Emerald green in the setting sun.

Atop the ridged crest
we gazed into the horizon,
eye-level with the clouds
that had pinked over
like soft,
tender flesh.

I felt your smile,
your presence,
breathing
somewhere
inside of me.

crying out like children
we flew down the grassy *****,
crossed again the eternal stream
and ended somehow
inside some cozy cottage,
warm and safe.

and suddenly we were alone
and I kissed you
and that’s when I woke up
and outside the dawn was just graying
to reveal a thick fog,
settling over the land.

Sometimes
You climb the steepest slopes
and stare off at the horizon.

It’s fragile up there above the notched ridge.
Way up in the clouds
the delicate alpine grass,
is speckled
with pale flower blossoms.
a cool wind kisses you
on the face.

This is the place
where you walk
among the spirits.

Be careful though,
it is a long way down
and surely it leads
back to your bed
where your body waits with
bleary eyes and a dry mouth.
It is forgotten like old clothes
crumpled amongst
the folded bed sheets.

Racing ahead
laughing like a child,
I flew down the hill,
gliding,
motion so smooth,
Nothing could stop me.

I stood at the bottom and waited.
In slack-jawed awe
of the fall colors,
my breath misting before my face
in the pale moonlight.

Enlightenment
never came so easily
as that night we climbed the hill
marked with tombstones,
touched the trees, felt them speak,
and stared out over the valleys,
the cities, the roads,
the universe,
accepting our place
so effortlessly.

You are complete.

There is a peacefulness
wrapped in this power.
Lie on your back,
breathe,
feel the cool night air
flowing in and out of you,
accept the oneness.

The universe is as much inside of you
as you are a part of it.
Know this.

You are complete.

Say these words again and again,
silently in the forefront of your mind,
begin to accept them.
Become aware o the entire world,
fitting between your ears,
behind your eyes.
Become each slow breath.
Relax.

Succumb to the current,
accept your place as a single point
on this earth hurdling through space.
But what magic within this point!

You are complete.

Sit up.
Open your eyes.
Know this.

I want to love
Everything.

Each morning when I awake
with golden sunlight
breathing in bed beside me,
I want to step outside
get on my knees
and run my fingers through the grass,
Moaning.

I’ll roll in the grass
and cover myself in fallen leaves,
lie on my back with my jacket wide open
and let the sky take me.

I want to stand up and grab the trees
with my hands,
crying out with the aching sweetness
of my silent
Lovers.

I will have the same feelings
for each staircase I ascend,
my feet treading on the very spines
of these great fretted buildings,
I love them all.

This is the way to live.
With that great language of love,
in your eyes always.

Our lives unfold
atop these sloping curves
the very surface of this great rock
into which we have so unthinkingly carved
Out a living.

Civilization’s mark,
the roads, the buildings, the mines,
you should stand atop a mountain
on a cool night,
gaze off at an urban skyline
in the distance.

I am a lonely blister
On this one great stone.

It’s easy to miss this.
each tree, each blade of grass,
a constantly dancing
mating ritual.

Majestic,
leaves and branches
****** outward
To stroke the world.
It’s ****.
These ancient creatures
Hanging over us.

What artwork!
The sculptures of  twisted branches,
knotted bark.

The cars and people
fly by day after day,
forgetting to notice.

Slow down,
Press your fleshy palms
against an aching body,
Listen to It calling out

Love me.

--Jack Singer

Churning violently
Hurricanes rage
and gyrate,
great torrents
of hurdling water and wind.

Volcanoes and their magma plains,
places where the earth’s molten core
shows raw from between
bits of cracked and hardened skin,
reminding us of her birth.

Great patches of forests
sway gently in the breeze
like the crested wave tips
of vast green oceans
rolling over the hills and mountains.

Her oceans themselves
are glittering mirrors
dancing eternally in a world
different from ours,
beyond time, beyond history.

Slabs of frozen ice,
jagged and hardened, white and deep blue,
crumpled like slabs of granite,
they are defeated; they retreat.

Once there was coexistence, beauty,
Contented perfection.
But ever dissatisfied, we must now destroy her.

We seek something better,
Power, Control,
Synthesized immaculacy.

Why?
Why struggle and ruin
When it is everywhere beneath our feet,
Whispering silently
Songs of forgotten majesty.

You feel it
quivering like thick wet bass strings
Far beneath you,
rumbling deep within you,
In a secret place.

Push it down.
Try to swallow.
It’s not working.
It pushes to the surface
chokingly,
stronger now,
that bile taste
In the back of your throat
more real suddenly.

It scampers up the inside
Of your ridged esophagus,
Its padded feet
Clinging and skiddering
quickly up the dark sides.
The damp passageway
Convulses
As if to throw it down
But still it climbs
Squirrelishly
Wriggling.

It is faster now and closer
Even closer.
It is closer now and faster
Even faster.
You realize suddenly
you are trapped.
here amongst the crowd,
Surrounded on all sides
by thousands of pulsing bodies,
Only they don’t seem to see
The impending doom.
You will have to submit
To it.

Wildly
Frantically, you claw at your surroundings,
at the very earth itself you have to escape
there is no other way.
There is a guttural desperation to your cries
shooting forth from your throat
and you do not recognize it.
It is closer now and it is faster and Holy
****
This is the end.

You pull at your hair,
Claw scarlet marks down your face
It is too much to bear
It will consume you.
You feel the very pieces of your mind
Torn apart, shearing past each other
Like tectonic plates and the world
is no more and the world
doesn’t know you anymore
it is closer now this thing this terrible thing
yes you see it now.

It is all so clear now that you can see it.
Of course this is doom.
It is complete now and the world
as you knew it is ripped and torn asunder
as easily as houses are obliterated in tornadoes
and you grab the sides of your head in complete
panic  as it climaxes
and takes over
Entirely.

The rising sun
is already glaring down
from high above the horizon
by the time I get up

Bleary-eyed and squinting
at the light pouring through
in violent spears
through opened shades.

My bed sheets,
rank and stale
with damp sweat,
cling to my skin,
my face and curled hair
that hangs in greasy tendrils,

and I rise from that foul lair
grudgingly.

**** this day.

I get lonely
Way up here on the 5th floor,
in the corner of the hall.

And one day I thought I saw
You,
far below,
walking towards the building.
she had your hair,
your walk and your structure,
your same beauty
that is not self conscious.

My eyes lite up,
I sat up straight in my chair,
peering down eagerly,
I felt a prickling up my legs,
she wore your same
light green tank top.

But it was somebody else
and I put my head down,
and went back to reading
and wondering
if you’d call me
one of these days.

It is delicate and fragile,
This imaginary creation,
We must be gentle with this creature.

We four creators sweat and breathe unconsciously,
We are unified; mesmerized by it.
It is delicate and fragile to hold.

At first it scampered around the room, scattered off the walls,
It nearly slipped from between our cupped fingers.
We must be gentle with our creature.

We have brought it to life, colorful and vivid
Fluid motion and sound, right before our wide eyes.
It is delicate and fragile to hold.

Our fingers clutch it precariously,
One missed beat and could vanish or ******* it,
We must be gentle with our creature.

It is distinctly unique, exclusively different,
It is energy and existence glowing primordially.
It is delicate and fragile to hold,
We must be gentle with our creature.

It rained today,
A thorough soaking
Of the ground
That left the fields
Soggy and spotted
With small ponds.

The fallen leaves,
Orange and yellow
With the autumn,
Had stuck to the earth,
Soaked and weighted down
Around the edges.

Everybody
Wore rain coats and rubber boots,
They carried multi-colored umbrellas.
Squinting in the wind
As the water licked their eyes,
They trudged and suffered
Through it.

They walked over the puddles,
Never looking down at the
Liquid canvasses spluttered
With circling ripples
As the sky’s tears
Kissed their faces.

On the edges of the sidewalks
The water pooled and drained.
Dead leaves lay on the bottoms,
Flickering amber in the gray light.

Nobody took notice
Of the tiny moments
Of perfection.

They taught you to eat corn,
They fed you hormones
And you grew faster
Than you were ever meant to.
Your bones, your muscles, your sinews
Strained under your strange girth,
You collapsed to the ground
Amidst a pile of your own filth.

The others wailed around you,
Mile after mile of confused beasts,
Suffering,
Completely disoriented,
Completely terrified.

You all will feed the world,
The billions waiting
For your mashed and grinded flesh.

And what is your reward?
When finally your bones
Snapped underneath your immense bulk,
The men came
Prodding you with a forklift,
They laughed as you rolled
In the utmost agony,
Bleating for mercy of compassion.

It was not their fault,
They were only doing
What the system demanded
Of them.

They carried you off
And spilled your life blood
Openly onto a dark factory floor,
Hoisted you up,
Stripped you naked
Of your skin,
Tearing at your carcass
And sent you off
To the supermarkets
Where you were welcomed
As a shrink-wrapped addition
To the shelves.

I’d like to start
By saying that I have had
So many great memories
(Mornings of Phish shows,
before skiing, going to college,
high school lunch with friends)
Standing in front of your counter
As I eagerly watch you
Flip my sizzling eggs,
My succulent bacon.

Is there any spirit, Jim,
More jolly than yours?
Any soul more deeply content
To engage in pleasant small talk
With the local old ladies,
To put stickers
On their macaroni salad containers
And smile,
To tell them, “Thanks for shopping here,”
As you wipe your hands
Off on your white apron,
Tied off just beneath your proud belly,
And really mean
Every word?

Jim, you have touched the food
Of many, the lives
Of many.

Your store has survived
Well into the age of the supermart
And still the people come back.
They come back for
Your fresh eggs,
For your incredible meats,
Your perfectly baked goods.

But Jim,
Sometimes,
They come back
For you.

It’s okay to take risks
Here,
This dreaming threshold
Where we wander with the spirits.

You can balance upon
The narrowest ledge,
Cross catwalks
Hanging a hundred feet
Above boiling oceans of
Lava plains.

You can’t
Get hurt
Here

Go ahead,
Stick your
Hand in that strange crevice,
Put your whole arm in,
Feel around,
Discover a new mystery.
You’re safe here.

This place is magic
And you and I can actually tread
On the shimmering patterns.

You’ll know when it’s time to jump,
To leap off the edge,
To careen down to the earth.
You’ll feel it coming,
Feel it building.
We’ll carry you up,
And if you trust us
To hold you up,
If you really believe it,
Then you’ll
Fly.

Eyes hang low
Retreating from the light,
Seeking shelter ‘neath heavy lids.
Machines whir in the back of my mind,
As their users push themselves
Thoughtlessly through their tired routines
Like hamsters on a wheel.
I hear the water dripping,
Almost as slowly as my thoughts,
Into the endless myriad
Of blue and red buckets.

My consciousness drifts away,
And suddenly it is my vehicle,
As I awake walking aimlessly
Through the crowded streets
Of some hot Arab marketplace.
Bearded men in headdresses
Bicker in strange languages
Over bizarre fruit, almost as vibrant
As the decorated sword hilts
Gently resting at their hips.
Past me walk crowds of lavishly clothed,
Brightly jeweled women,
Dressed more strangely and exotically
Then any person I’ve yet to see,
And I avert my own attention
So as not to draw that of others.

A co-worker walks past me,
Looking at me strangely,
And I emerge from the lake of my mind,
Flopping about as if I were a fish out of water.

In class I’m learning all about
How all these great people
Explained the world,
How their models accounted
For the inexplicable magic
That somehow floats around
The earth.

Emerson had these circles,
He saw them in everything.
The Puritans saw God,
Everywhere,
Joy Harjo had horses.

Oh and Clapton played the blues,
And how can I forget
About Phish and their IT?

Me,
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,
Looking at really hard at fields.
I’m staring at their imperfections,
I’ve been getting down to eye level
With the grass,
Thinking about all of the life,
Right there,
That just grew,
And keeps living,
Just like that.
Those wavering little blades.

I think my meaning of life
Is
You.

Escape
Finally,
From the choking confines,
The cluttered debris
And piled clothes
Of her bedroom

Relief,
Coming only with
The cool night air,
Breathing softly onto her face,
Lifting her brown hair
From her bare shoulders.

Her feet click-clacking like music
On the dark asphalt,
The sky above glowering
Luminescent and orangeish purple
As the moon and the city
Burn silently against
The blanketed backdrop of clouds,
Hovering above
The distant voices and laughter
Across the fields.

She had never imagined
That she could feel like this.
“It’s all in your head,”
(as if anything ever
could be somewhere else)

A goal
That had consumed her whole life,
Working towards it,
Achievements,
Awards,
Satisfaction and success.
And suddenly she was here,
At this very point that she was sure
Her entire life had been leading up to…
Yet that lingering feeling of uncertainty…
What now?

The hollowness,
Enveloping
her
from
all around,
Choking
her
suddenly.

The promises that once
seemed so real
Falling short,
Becoming nothing more than ***** bathrooms,
Loud and late night drunks calling to her
With smelly breath
while she walked past
hurriedly,
Bodies tossing restlessly
in borrowed beds,
She was kept awake
by the mere thought of
Their faces;
A haunting horde of
ten thousand nameless humans
Shuffling past in grimy hallways.

“Am I insane now?”
she demanded an answer,
arms unfurled
up into the darkness.

But none came,
the sky remained silent,
So she just
Kept
Walking.


--Jack Singer

You smell like ***
Between happy covers
Stained with our joy and love.

I love you so much
That when I kiss you
I’m smiling.
I put my hand
On the inside of your thigh
And brush accidentally
Against a trail of slime.
It’s like a snail
Crawled up your leg
And left a path
Of my sticky love tears.

You look at me and giggle
And soon like an STD
I catch it too
And we laugh like a pair of happy idiots
In each other’s arms.

A steam hangs off the wet asphalt;
The fresh rain water
Seeps off the sticky ground
In low hazy mists. Beside the road
The trees hang down as if
Weighted by the humid air
And the reeds and undergrowth
Glare back a violent shade of arsenic green.
Above the earth wet electric lime
And vibrant cherry leaves
Hang over the slick black surface.

A forest
Choked with muddy and twisted
Vines and shrubs,
Dense and gritty mud,
Ferns from a prehistoric era otherwise forgotten,
And yammering birds that shriek
Upwards in the tangled branches
Stares back at a black cat,
Who sits and cleans herself nobly,
Occasionally munching on grass.

Her head bobs up and down
As she chomps the sour stalks
In her mouth, staring once in a while
At the ominous maw of the forest floor.
The grass is soaked against her paws,
And soon she trots
Into a quiet house at some distance.

Outside dusk has arrived like
The terrible bringer of some evil destiny,
Walking quietly upon soft yet inevitable footsteps.
Meanwhile the insects crawl forth from the mud
And pour out into the mauve and fleshy night air
Buzzing and biting.

I wish
I could capture the essence
Of my life here,
Now.

I’d wrap it up in bubble wrap,
(you always loved bubble wrap)
and put it in an envelope.
I’d lick it closed,
And mail it off to you.

It’s stupid for me to try
To show you what I felt
When this morning
As I was crossing the street
In the brusque Connecticut air,
A car stopped for me,
And I waved to thank the driver.

Then as I approached my building,
Stepping on freshly fallen October leaves
A girl held the door for me
And I thanked her.

I run my fingertips up your sides,
A gentle caress,
Feeling your ribs quiver beneath my hands.
Under your fretted torso,
Your heart, a bleeding star
In a dark cavern,
Pumps your life blood.

You are living.
Your flesh is warm like
Something eternal and powerful.
It has its own story
And now I too am woven
Into that tale.

Your toes curl,
In the darkness beneath the covers.

I put my hands in your hair
And sniff you.
Delicious.
You are musky
Like a tribal warrior.

hey, not bad kid.
you been practicing that?
learning all the tricks,
figuring out the secrets,
putting in the hours,
working hard,
doing what you
live for?

I can tell,
and someday,
they'll put your name
up in the big flashing neon lights,
you'll be a superstar,
they'll all love you then,
they'll watch you intently,
gazes fixed and eyes widened.
then you can show them
all about your skill,
your technique,
more flawless than the thoughtless
fingers of a master guitarist
as they dance and flutter
over the fretboard.

because you--
you have ideas
that nobody else has ever thought.
you've got it down!
you can make it
float in the air like a leaf,
wiggle like a worm
wriggling in the mud,
swim like a slow-motion-astronaut
jumping on the moon,
quiver and flip over
like a struggling fish
on the deck of a boat,
spin like a top,
even sprint across the finish line
like a breathless runner.

but none of that,
kid,
is worth ****,
unless you can make it sing.
and i mean fly like a falcon,
effortlessly though the air,
soaring,
beautiful,
mesmerizing.

you have to cram it all,
every emotion, thought,
every piece of piece of this puzzle
that is existence,
and jam into one note,
one step,
one jumpshot,
one stroke of your magic paintbrush
only you can use,
and then,
maybe,
somebody will notice you.

so keep trying kid;
you never had a choice.

I’m sitting here
On a balcony
On the third floor.
It’s sunny,
The New England fall
Is just beginning here
And the field
In front of me
Is a green lake
Rippling in the breeze.

The sun is bright
But it’s not harsh
Like in the summer.
I’m reading some poems,
I’m thinking.
But mostly I’m thinking
of you.

All the stories I have for you,
None of them
Mean anything
To you.
They’re all names
places,
things,
events
That you’ve never heard of.

Can you
Feel me over here?
Can you hear me scream
When I awake
In the blackest depths
Of the night,
And cry out for a moment,
Hitting my head
Off the metal frame
Beneath the top bunk,
Before I realize that of course
You’re not next to me,
Because I live here now.

Sometimes I imagine
That I feel you,
That I take in your pain,
Along with the everyday
bits of magic
That fall around your life
Like shards of stained glass
Scattered across
A wooden and dusty floor
Of an empty cathedral,
Bathed in sunlight,
And crunching underneath
The feet of time
As our memories
Are pounded into
Oblivion.

Of course I wish it were different!
Yes I wish that I had you everyday,
The way I once did.
But that’s not
How it is
Anymore.

Give me back my joy
That once seeped out of my being.
Its long soft tendrils
Brushing and stroking tenderly
At those who passed by.
I always turned secretly
To watch them smile
As they kept walking.

I want to look at everything,
To do everything,
To think about all of it,
The same way I used to;
With your glowing face
Woven into my mind,
Radiating between the etched patterns
Of my memory.

I used to wake up everyday
And breathe in the love I felt for you,
I used to ****** it
From the golden sunlight
That had bounded through my window.

Lately,
I’ve been going to bed in the dark—
No,
Lying awake in the dark,
Wishing you loved me
Again.

I had a dream
That I was
Back at mom’s again.

She was walking
Around the house
Talking and smiling,
Catching me up,
On the neighborhood gossip,
As if nothing
Had even happened.

She brought out
A tin of muffins,
Blueberry,
As good as ever.
She said she would
Make more,
And started to get
Out the ingredients
While I stepped
Into the bathroom
Real quick.

But when I saw myself
In the mirror,
Things started to
Make too much sense,
Like how this was
Our old bathroom,
And we don’t
Live here anymore,
And it all started
Slipping away
Like dreams often do.

--Jack Singer

If you ever feel uninspired,
insignificant, meaningless,
or small…
just remember this:
you,
are cosmically awesome.

when you step out
into a silky night
of shimmering moonlight
beneath an array
of glittering stars,
a billion glowing orbs
a billion lightyears in the future
are waiting patiently
to look at you.

think about this:
nobody ever
has perceived existence
the exact same way
as you.
nobody ever
has had your same
thoughts.

don't you see it?
only you
have the power
to do what nobody else
ever has.

the gods shout your name
with every breath of wind.
listen to them,
look deep inside yourself,
and realize
that you
are
amazing.



-Jack Singer

Take a step
Where you never have before.
Take my hand,
Let me show you
What it’s like out there.

You and I can explore
The darkest reaches
of the cosmos,
The most colorful places
of the universe,
The strangest too.

Things that your imagination
Never could grasp fully
Like a coiled snake wraps its prey,
But only touched fleetingly
Like a seal gliding through
Layered folds of icy waters.

Our feet will tread
softly and silently,
Falling on scintillating walkways
Of balancing galaxies
Floating
Just beneath us.  

On all sides the stars will glimmer,
White and orange
walls of our corridors,
The nebulae glistening,
Like crystalline clouds
of pure and rare jewels.

Do you doubt me?
I can understand that.
After all,
who has ever

Been able to reach out
And with cupped
and outstretched hands,
Cradle it,
hold it out to you,
The absolute meaning
Of this existence,
Right before your eager face.

The warm light reflecting
Eerily phosphorous
and luminescent upon
Your cheeks,
electrically pale in the blue dusk.
Your gaze so unmistakably sparkling
With that touch of joy,
That juvenile smile
of innocence and wonder.

And what is “it”
After all?
A glowing ball of pure energy,
Molten like lava,
Shifting and liquidous and flaming,
Mercurial and lustrous?
Would it tell
of the hot and violent beginnings
Of this warped and wicked world?

Or is it a shimmering
Field of dancing ice,
Silvery and reflective
in the light of a newborn dawn.

Would we know it
If it danced past us,
Every single day
of our mundane
and daily lives?

Or has it in fact always been there?
In every last leaf
floating upon the breeze,
In every little detail
Of a spider web
Dripping with dew,
And we’ve just been too busy
To stop
for even just a moment,
And notice
It.

--Jack Singer

It takes a while,
Sometimes,
To remember
Where we put
all the useless parts
of our messy lives.

We often find ourselves
Sifting through
The scattered notes
Of forgotten songs,
Or searching extraneous facts
And useless information
Acquired over the years.

These things are scattered
Like old laundry
Strewn across our imaginary floors.
They’re left to clutter our heads
Like crumpled pages
Smudged with scrawling letters.

Each day brings more pieces
To keep track of,
Dates fast approaching,
Names that must somehow
Match the random faces,
Appointment times
And places to go,
Directions that wind through
the tangled streets.
Visions of places
We’ve lived in all our lives,
Visions of places
We’ve visited once.

And don’t forget
To make time
To eat,
To shower,
To use the toilet,
To drink water,
To exercise,
To get ready for bed,
To set your alarm clock,
To ******* sleep.

It’s a wonder
That we don’t see more people
Falling off
Or losing control
Of the madness.

Even stranger when we see those
Scurrying frantically to and fro
like nervous rodents,
Their eyes wide and concerned,
Their claws burrowing furiously
As they try to neaten up
The chaos.

I never understood those people.

Sometimes memories
Fade faster than
Whispering wisps of smoke
Rising from flickering candles.
Others tend to hang around
For a while.

But don’t think about any of that right now.
As far as I can tell,
We only have this one life
So why sit there and stare at the rain
Running down the glass?
Go outside,
Take a look around,
Let It all amaze you,
This place, these things.
Laugh and shout like a child,
Don’t be so **** afraid
To get a little muddy.
You can even track it
Through the house
If you’re really feeling daring.

You’re here to enjoy yourself,
To discover this strange place,
So quit wasting time and get started.

--Jack Singer

She was birthed
Roaring into the world
From the smoldering
Clouds and debris
Of a solar supernova.

The Solar System
Wailed with the effort
Of her labor,
Crying and moaning
Fumes
Of toxic ashes
As her surfaces
Slowly coagulated.

At first
The molten lava plains
Of her magma
Sizzled
And shifted,
Bubbled
And stewed.

Spinning,
Turning already
On her axis,
Her cooling crust began to
Take shape,
At first
Sticking
Randomly

Together
But
Later
Clumping
Like
The fusing skull
Of a budding
Fetus.

And her bright
Pink
Flesh cooled,
Shone
No more,
Replaced
By black scabs
Of brutal scarring.

Storms
Of acidic poison
Raged in her skies,
Gaseous clouds broiling up
From openings
On her scorched
And pockmarked
Body.

Oceans flowed
And they washed
Over her skin,
Cleansing her,
Elevating her to salvation.
Waves crashed
Like powerful titans
Capable of bringing
Our little world to its knees.
They rescued
Her warped form.

Groaning she rose up
Gloriously
With the act
Of greeting
The Sun.
The new and white
Star gazed lovingly
Over her child’s horizon,
And the infant,
Wiped freshly clean
Of her burning mother’s
Cosmic afterbirth,
Opened her baby blue eye
And smiled back.



--Jack Singer